Gloves
by EDreams
Summary: [Master Hand, Oneshot] Even gods aren't perfect.


_Author's Note: This is interpeted from the intros and endings to both games, so I already know this is a lot different from the regular fics in this section._

* * *

I am Master Hand.

The name is rather a boring one. They thought of it, the creations, and of course I'm rather proud that they can think creatively. I've never understood the point of names, really, but mine is just a description. A giant hand that controls. It is what I am, of course, but it is not much of a name.

It is akin to naming a mountain climber an "Ice Climber". Which I did, come to think of it. Does that make me a hypocrite? Or perhaps I am just not creative with names, and it just rubbed off on them? It could be either, or both, or none. Honestly, I'm not really sure. Perhaps I should test it the next time, when these die? I wish that would stop happening, though, even if this group is full of curious flaws.

Nothing is perfect, of course, not even me, and creation is such a difficult art. It is like one of the things the creations did a while ago... painting, was it... yes, painting. Slow, steady, requiring the utmost concentration to combine form and color into something that could only be called alive, and then creating a world for your creation, with it as the centerpiece. The recent groups do not try painting, though, preferring the rush of destroying to the general peace of making.

This is not upsetting, as I was trying to have them do something different, the opposite of what I have done before. I guessed that if they created at first, they would destroy second, so fighting is the intended purpose. Whether they enjoy it or dislike it eludes me, and its very difficult to tell.

On the other hand, this group has done something few of the ones before it have, and its quite exciting in its own right. They want to actually meet me, and its especially suprising because I never expected them to be so curious about me or their creation. It's really something to look forward to, which is a common and enjoyable feeling. There's a lot of things I find myself looking forward to. I wouldn't be very curious or creative if I only thought about the "now", after all.

They decided to make a contest out of it. Unsuprising behavior, except for the slight problem that this contest is "to the death". Which means, of course, that once they're done and I've actually met one of them, he'll be the only one left until he dies. That's so boring and unpleasant, I can't help but wonder if this is worth it. It's a little late now, though.

They're down to just two already, and its just those two that are fighting in one of my worlds. The... which ones were they... Ah! Yes! The short one in the red hat, and there's that girl in the orange armor. The orange one seems rather knowledgable, from what I've seen; she might be more interesting than the other one. I wouldn't dare interfere though. After all, that just wouldn't be fair to do. It's better to just watch.

The orange one seems to have the upper hand at the moment. The short one can't even get close, but its doing an admirable job of trying. Why doesn't it just deflect the missi... ah, yes, silly me. They can't do that. The platform is beginning to turn now, and it seems the only one smart enough to focus on it is the short one... Mario. Yes, Mario. I'll remember to call it that.

I wonder what went wrong. The orange one didn't even notice the turning platform until she lost her footing. Was she not thinking? Was she just too caught up in the moment? Sadly, it no longer matters. At least she didn't feel anything as she hit the lava, I made sure of that, just like always. What's the point of such horrid physical pain, of blood and aches and broken parts? I wouldn't dare be cruel enough to make them suffer as they die. And, as far as I know, they don't. Too bad they can't tell me.

She was one of my favorites too, which is funny since I can't remember her name.

But here it comes, all the same! I should make myself presentable, perhaps give a congratulatory laugh as I enter? I remember that a few of the creations would do such laughs after they win, I assume for that same purpose. So, yes, I think I'll give such a laugh for coming this far.

Mario and I will meet here. This is my favorite place to visit, out of the ones I've made. The creations have called such a place a "Final Destination", and I like that name. Especially with current circumstances, its quite fitting.

There it is. Not quite what I expected to be the best of them, but how silly and unlike me to judge just on appearance.  
But I expected it to be suprised. To question something. Sadly, it doesn't even blink as it steps onto the platform in the middle of a magnificent and ever-changing nothing. It doesn't bother staring at or appreciating the void around it, what I had hoped it would find exotic and amazing.

It's time for me to make my appearance. The way it moves like that is almost overeager, occasionally stopping to push its hat up and doing a strange but certainly anxious dance. It's almost familiar. A fighting stance? How silly. That's not why they came.

I laugh as I enter, doing my best imitation of the congratulatory laughter I've heard from the creations so many times now. Deep, bellowing, a little longer than necessary and with an extra echo for effect. I'm shamelessly showing off, of course, but I'm sure the creation will know the meaning.

Apparently not. It doesn't do what I expect at all. It looks straight at me, with a glare I'm too familiar with from watching their fights, adjusts its hat once more, and leaps right at me. I can't help but think this is a little disappointing, how much they run on instinct. I guess I should expect it, being their purpose, but it almost seems like too much of my other half has rubbed off on them.

It isn't like I have time to dwell on it. Mario, and of course now I remember the name again, pulls back for a punch, then attacks. I don't feel anything, of course-- why would I give myself the ability to feel pain?-- but I wonder for a second if he actually damaged me. Is that even possible? And why doesn't it hesitate in the slightest? Did I ever give them the sensation of fear?

Or does it.. hate me for something?

I respond, of course, but without really thinking about it. It's more of a reflex, and even more to get a better look at how it reacts to getting hit. It flies across the platform with suprising grace for something that just got slapped by something so much larger than it is, and it catches the ground (but how, when there isn't anything to grab onto?) and is right back on its feet again, returning for another swing.

As I tend to do, even at the strangest times, I notice flaws. Pieces of its body are too obviously triangular, unsmooth and jutting awkwardly. Fittingly like a doll, its eyes don't actually follow anything, rooted in the same position at all times, and that bothers me for reasons I can't explain. The clothing it wears doesn't look like clothing as much it does skin, no matter how much detail I put into it.

I've given it plenty of time to hit me while I've been speculating, haven't I? I should really stop doing that, and I finally respond to the attacks by pointing straight upwards. As a jet of smoke and fire comes out of the hollow end of the glove, I sail into the air and out of sight. I wonder why I've always wanted to do this? Maybe I just wanted to see how it'd react. It doesn't, and I'm not suprised. It stands there, in the same stance it was in before we fought, not even coughing as the smoke envelops everything around it.

I spin around behind the platform, coming straight toward it as I circle the platform in high-speed circles, and I suddenly realize that flying where I want to go is much different at these speeds, and a great deal more interesting. I carefully aim myself at the creation (Luigi? No, Mario, that was it, they look so similar) once I get close enough. I forgot how I designed the laws of my little universe, and I wonder if it'll fly straight away from me, or nonsensically only be tossed to the left or right.

Neither happens. Instead of getting hit, it jumps right over me without even looking, and I miss it altogether. I'm sure that somewhere, that'd be quite a feat, but I can't help but be bothered at how lazy I've gotten. It was looking, or at least it knew I was there, without turning because I hadn't designed it to need to turn its head to see oncoming danger, and something just told me that didn't make any sense. I'd need to fix that next time.

I move back, in an upward arch, and turn back to face it as I reapproach it on the platform. I could fly away, far away, and then he couldn't hit me anymore, but something in me doesn't want me to, so I don't. I can get a better look this close, anyways, and I still doubt it can actually damage me.

I sit back and let it hit me a few times, to see what happens, and notice it doesn't have stamina. It doesn't get tired, ever, no matter how much it fights. I make a fist and slam the platform, Mario rolls away just as effectively as before, and responds with a sharp headbutt into one of my fingers. It's faster than I expected, and I don't know why I find this so enjoyable...

Perhaps I'm being too... conventional. I wonder if it'd react if I did something humorous, or strange, or different, or if I mocked it? From experience, it probably won't, but since when do I judge from experience?

I place two fingers on the ground, and "stand" as straight as I possibly can against the platform, towering over Wario (Right?) as he continues to strike at me without even having to stop to breathe. In an admittebly silly imitation, I move one finger forward, then another, in a suprisingly fast "walking" movement that must look even sillier since I definitely don't have arms jutting out of me.

It doesn't make any motion of suprise, but at the same time, it doesn't seem to expect it, and I crash into it, pulling one finger back further than necessary as Mario hits the ground and then slamming it against the creation full-force. In a way that bothers me as so many things in this short fight have, the creation flies upwards rather than straight as it should, and barely goes anywhere. And then it is immediately back up, once again, showing no signs of pain or lack of energy. Maybe I'll regret that I didn't give it feelings like those soon. With the lack of reaction, did I even give it feelings?

It jumps at me again, and I actually fly backwards out of reach, then position myself in a way that's vaguely like a gun, bottom two fingers pointing at myself, top finger straight up, second and third finger pointing straight forward. Creating what could only be described as a bright orange light around those specific fingers and giving the creation far too much warning, I stare at it for a few seconds before I actually do something.

I fire the beams from my fingers at it, even going so far as to imitate recoil, pulling back with every shot and then firing another and another. I can't resist the urge to think sound effects I don't actually create.

Bang, bang.

One of my creations had a gun, which is something I realize suddenly. The furry one, Fox or Wolf maybe, and I still think the gun was one of the better toys I made. It's shamelessly fun to imitate, and why didn't I make one for myself? I stop firing, and I can already see past the smoke and notice its created a shield.

Why did I give them the ability to do that, again? I think I might have just wanted to see what they would do with it, or perhaps it was one of my attempts to keep them from eventually dying (but why do that anyways, wouldn't it get boring if they could live forever), but it doesn't matter even as I feel another, stronger punch hit me, and then another.

I catch it before it can land a third, gently holding it, rather than squeezing. Then I decide that this is an even better way to look at my creation, and squeeze. Its bumpy and triangular, it has no texture, and as it turns out, its eyes are skin, just irrelevant little added detail I forgot to give a purpose to. I can feel it struggling, and of course it does (why wouldn't it?), and I run my fingers over it, shake it, slam against the ground, feeling it bounce and struggle and bounce and try its hardest to force my way out of its grip, and I wonder what this does to it.

Satisfied, I toss it against the platform, and its back up as if nothing happened, showing no signs of fatigue or pain (or even discomfort).

More flaws to fix next time, that's all I discovered. It's little more than the doll it is, and I realize that I only gave this group the barest minimum of animation. Not at all like my earlier attempts.

I reach back, point one finger forward at it, and then poke the air, vaguely aiming at it with every stroke, and I actually hit it and knock it back and feel oddly satisfied, even as it gets back up with still no signs of fatique or pain.

Marby, Kario, Larth... No, Mario (why do I have difficulty with names) runs back at me to land another hit, seeing without eyes just like I do, and glove meets glove yet again. I fly up and slam the platform, it leaps and hits me with a rising uppercut that makes gold coins appear for some unexplainable reason, I repeat old attacks and yet it finds new ones, and it feels like it could go on forever, and something in me wishes it would and something doesn't.

And then everything stops, the creation frozen in mid-punch, its hand actually going straight through me. What does it think about this? Does it think about this? I know that I didn't do this, but at the same time, I realize what did.

It's rather like staring at myself as it flies onto the platform, imitating what I look like and what I sound like, down to imitating that laugh (but what is it congratulating me for?), and I feel a vague sense of dread at his appearance, because I know what's coming, what is always coming when it shows up. Curiosity is lost to him. The creations call him Crazy Hand (but wouldn't their love for destruction make them crazy as well?).

Of course he takes the form of a hand, the opposite hand. When he first began to manifest, I didn't understand that. I had taken my form based on the first creation. Being more of me than my opposite, the first thing it started doing when I gave it a setting was build things, with its hands.

It seemed like a way to connect, so I presented myself as a hand. But my other side did the same, when it had no desire to create, something that became obvious when, for the first but not the last time, it ruined what I made. Why imitate me?

"You seem suprised," it says, and if I had a mouth and expressions I might frown, "that they want to fight you. You created them to fight, you made them to fight, and suddenly you desire them to just be curious and have friendly discussion. They killed each other to get here, I don't think they'd come happy."

"I didn't force them to," I respond (meekly? angrily? sadly?) "They chose to."

"They didn't choose anything. You made all their choices from the start and they followed what you gave them."

"They didn't have to."

He doesn't respond, and then everything is moving again. The creation, what was its name-

"Mario."

Mario (and why can he remember the names when I can't?) doesn't miss a step, and turns right towards the left hand and attacks, switching targets without a second thought. Is it attacking for my sake, or is he just stronger, a more valuable target?

It's hard not to notice how much fiercer the left hand is compared to me, and its no suprise that he destroys for his own enjoyment, which is a trait he says I possess more than he does. The second the creation is in range, he slams the platform with far too much force, and yet the creation manages to squeeze out from under him, only to fly directly off the edge into the abyss.

Is it over, just like that? I can't help but ask questions while I have the chance, but he speaks first.

"Don't ask questions," he says. "I hate questions, overanalysis. I do things because I can, like I've always told you, and that's all I'll ever tell you."

And yet somehow I doubt it, but there's no time again, as a small glowing platform hovers down from overhead, Mario standing on it as if the creation didn't just die in a void in the middle of nothing.

It jumps at Crazy Hand, leaving me in the background again, and my counterpart spasms slightly before doing something I didn't expect. He begins to form... balls, or rectangles, or some combination of the two, darkly colored in even darker smoke, and as he wiggles his massive fingers, more of them continue to form and fall to the ground, creating small explosions and clouds of purple dust. The creation is tossed around in it, bounced between the balls and the dust. If it could feel pain, it'd probably be choking and dying and in utter torment and I'm reminded why I stopped giving them the ability to feel pain.

My counterpart pulls backwards, as if lifting something, clenching itself into a turned fist. The falling balls of smoke and dust stop, and the clouds are pulled back as if they weren't there in the first place. He shakes himself off, acting as if it didn't do anything particularly unique, and the creation is back on its feet as it has been so many times before, immediately attempting to retaliate.

"Are you just going to float there?"

I don't apologize (why would I apologize to him?), but clench into a fist and launch across the platform, punching Mario as it had done to me so many times already, and for the second time it flies off the stage, and for the second time the platform reappears while for the second time the creation acts like nothing has happened at all.

The left hand lets Mario hit him more times than necessary before sharply striking him, knocking him against the floor before coming at him and grabbing him, like I had done before. Again, I don't do anything but float there as he squeezes it with what is surely unnecessary and immense force, over and over, before finally throwing it back onto the platform. It gets up, unphased as always, and I finally do something. Suprisingly, I don't ask the next question.

"Who pities toys?"

"It's not pity," I respond as I grab the creation, giving it a sharper squeeze than before. "It's curiosity."

"What's the difference? You could be done with this already, but you're letting it attack you."

I could end this right now, actually. At least I think I can, but I've always wondered if I can create something strong enough that I can't just get rid of it.

"That doesn't answer any questions," I reply as I toss the creation across the platform. Crazy Hand doesn't answer back, and instead pokes the creation, figuratively stabbing it, imitating me again. As if expecting this, it rolls away, jumps, and slams its fist into one of his fingers. "Why don't you?"

He doesn't even have time to respond as Mario runs under the hand, towards me, jumping at me. I attempt to snatch it out of the air and it rolls past me and punches twice, repeating the same tactic. It then runs under me, as if it thinks the strategy is flawless, and heads back toward Crazy Hand, who stops it by landing flat on his back against the ground. Grabbing it with just one finger, he throws the creation at himself, and does what could only be described as a tantrum, shaking wildly and unpredictably, launching clouds of dust into the air.

My other side is so childish that that was definitely the most fitting description there could possibly be for what he is doing. I don't have time to dwell on it, I haven't this whole fight (game? event?), and instead form the gun imitation again, firing a barrage of missiles at the rising dustclouds.

Bang, bang. How could I resist thinking it?

With that, the creation flies off the platform for the third time and comes back yet again, for what is hopefully the last time at this point.

"Isn't it odd how like our creations we are?" I think out loud. "The first thing we do upon meeting is try to kill the other."

Crazy Hand stops spasming, lifting itself into the air and brushing off nothing. I wonder why it does that.

"It's silly to stand back and do nothing. Stop playing with your toys already."

"But it seems cruel to just destroy everything they've done..."

"It's worse to make them think they have a chance before just getting rid of them."

I have a sudden pang of guilt, but it passes. Why should I feel guilty when I've given them a purpose? A reason for existing seems worth all the problems, doesn't it?

By now, the creation has already hit us a few times while we were talking, and the left hand again does something I don't expect. Apparently I don't know myself as much I thought I did.

"Why don't we just stop this right now? If we hit him together, it should just get rid of him."

"You mean you actually want to cooperate with me?"

"I'm fighting this with you, aren't I?"

There's little reason to be stubborn. We both float toward each other at the same time, and I'm much closer to the other hand than I've ever desired to be, and then the creation suddenly falls asleep, or into unconsciousness, drooping onto the floor and drifting off against its will. It'ssuprising, and almost... convenient. It was probably Crazy Hand doing it, but I'm a little too busy preparing to knock Mario off the stage to care. He does the same, at the same time, and we both attack at once, and the inevitable happens and we hit eachother. Then we both reverse and do it again. And again.

Clapping, except with a living thing with fake eyes and false free will in the center. Or at least it should have been, but its not until the creation has hit Crazy Hand that it registers that it somehow escaped. He strikes at it, and it manages to dodge the attack in mid-air, hitting him once again and then landing on the ground, with no signs of fatigue or pain or thoughts of giving up.

My creation and I seem more alike by the second, and I even notice its wearing a very familiar but much smaller white glove. How did I not notice before? I make a move to grab at it again, and Crazy Hand strikes, but neither of us hit it and Mario seems to be getting more skilled at fighting us every second. It lands one punch, then another, then uppercuts, and again and again we both try uselessly to land a hit as it dodges and rolls in ways that are so different when you're actually the one fighting.

Something isn't right here. It couldn't be getting that good, or am I getting that bad, or is it actually damaging me? And again, even as I uselessly attempt to hit it, I can't help but wonder why its fighting so hard, what's it fighting against.

Perhaps I should try asking.

"Don't bother," responds the other hand, somehow managing to read me when I can never do the same to it.

"Why? I know you're not curious, but..."

"I already told you. The only reason it thinks it exists is to fight. It can't do anything else. I doubt it even knows why. This is why you should find less frustrating hobbies."

I finally get a lucky hit, and Crazy Hand grabs it as it hits the platform, squeezing it to the point where squeezing is a weak word to use.

"You didn't even make it well," he continues dully as he crushes it. "This thing is covered in problems."

"I'd like to see you make something perfect."

"Perfection is overrated."

He tosses it back onto the platform, where it recovers and hits me before I can respond at all. I am overcome with an intense and sudden feeling, that feels oddly nostalgic when I'm sure I've never felt it, and I find myself spasming, covered in a series of orange explosions. I think I screamed when I'm sure that's impossible, because I can't scream, and I'm suddenly reminded why I didn't give my creations the ability to feel pain anymore.

---------------

I place a red hat upon its brown hair, smoothing out its nose and watching in satisfaction as its eyes follow everywhere I move, its head turning toward me if I move too far away.

"Mario sounds like a good name, don't you think? I think I'll make the next one a little more like one of those cultures I heard about.. angels, was it... once I make sure this one's better than the last one. I think I should call the next one Pit or something, that sounds like a good name."

What last one? I was being silly. This was the first time I had created a group like this, after all, the opposite of the ones I had created before who preferred creating. Although, it did feel oddly nostalgic.

"You should really find better things to do with your time," said my other half, and the nostalgia passed.


End file.
